


The Reunion

by imma_redshirt



Category: Coco (2017)
Genre: Abuelita meets Hector, F/M, Family Reunions, Gen, hector deserves all the hugs, just felt like i had to write this, just kinda ignore the title
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-12 21:49:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12969105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imma_redshirt/pseuds/imma_redshirt
Summary: The Rivera family has a new addition to meet at the Department of Family Reunions, but the reunion doesn't go quite as Héctor would have thought.





	The Reunion

**Author's Note:**

> Just another little self indulgent thing. Wanted to know what would happen when Elena and Hector met, so I figured I'd give it a shot! I kinda wanted the reunion to be a little more fluffy, because that skeleton needs all the love and comfort he can get, but I was afraid to make it too corny (still might be corny, sorry!) so I just ended it there.
> 
> Also, I just had some menudo at my Grandma's today, so I had to include it, as well as that AWFUL news about Hector's age when he died. Coco: a heart warming film, with some extra heartache on the side.
> 
> Couple of notes: if I've made any mistakes with my awful Spanish, please let me know! Also, Elena mentions an annoying reporter, which is a character in another piece I'm working on, where an investigative journalist helps Miguel find evidence of Hector's murder. Now that I'm done with that shameless self-plug, please enjoy!

By now, the Department of Family Reunions was a familiar sight for Héctor. He’d lost count of the hours he’d spent there after some rather embarrassing--but valiant!--attempts to cross the bridge on Dia de Muertos. Held up in some stuffy office, listening to some bored Corrections Officer rattle off every little offense he’d committed. He knew most of them by name--like Martin, or Celfa, or little old Margarita with the forever angry expression--and, sure, he’d formed some decent, almost friendly relationships with them, and he could probably navigate every hall and office of the place with his eyes in his pocket, but he did _not_ enjoy being there. All he’d ever wanted was to cross the petal-strewn bridge to see his daughter, not be dragged into some back room to be scolded like a _child._

But there he stood, almost two decades after his last failed attempt to sneak across to the Land of the Living, once again at the Department of Family Reunions, in another office, speaking to another official, signing more papers.

Except, this time, he didn’t mind it at all.

The lights were warm and bright, and the office was large enough to fit an entire family of deceased people. The official behind the desk didn’t watch Héctor with that bored, sometimes frustrated look he was so familiar with. Instead, the young man was smiling, his dark eyes surrounded by cheerful little swirls of orange and yellow.

“Sign here,” he said, pointing with one bony finger at an empty signature line beneath a page full of teeny tiny printed words that Héctor had never bothered to read thoroughly. 

Héctor signed his name, and then initialed the page after it, and then checked a few boxes on the page after _that_ , all at the officer’s prompting. Héctor wasn’t entirely unfamiliar with this paper work. The first time he’d seen it had been years ago, when his daughter Coco had crossed over and the whole family had arrived at the department to greet her. He and Imelda, the eldest of the Rivera family and Coco’s parents, had rushed through the paperwork after reuniting with their daughter. 

Now, though, he was the only one left with signatures to finish, while Imelda and Coco and the rest of their extended familia greeted their newest arrival.

“Tell me this is the last one,” Héctor groaned, scribbling his name on the final page of a thick packet. 

“It is!” The man chirped, and stamped the corner of the packet with a heavy, round stamp and orange ink. “We’re all done, Señor Rivera! Have a wonderful reunion with your granddaughter!”

“Well, it’s not _really_ a reunion,” he said conversationally, picking his hat up from the desktop. “You see, I’ve never actually met her because--”

“You were brutally murdered by Ernesto de la Cruz,” the man finished, nodding. “You did notify me of this earlier, Señor, and I was there when it was televised at the concert.”

“Ah, sí,” Héctor laughed, and twirled his hat before dropping it on his head. “Bueno! Gracias, amigo, it was fun, but I do hope I don’t see you again for a long time.”

He meant in regards to living family members passing away before their time and waiting to be picked up (as well as the mountains of paperwork he’d have to go through again) but when the man smiled and said “Igualmente!” he wasn’t sure if he meant the same, or was insulting him. 

Deciding to ignore it (and sparing the guy a confused glare,) he turned to his familia, who had all crowded around the newest addition to their members in the Land of the Dead. The twins and Rosita stood at the edge of the circle, still dabbing unashamedly at their eyes, while Julio and Coco and Victoria stood in a close semi-circle around the youngest of their family, Elena Rivera.

It had been Coco who had greeted her daughter first, introducing first Julio and then Victoria, who had all given and received multiple teary-eyed hugs. Rosita, Felipe, and Oscar had come next, all amidst “Oh, how I’ve missed you all” and “Ay, don’t look at me like that, I’m going to cry again” and laughter.

Now, as Héctor turned, Elena was being introduced to Imelda. The youngest of their deceased clan looked at the head of their family with unrepressed awe. Standing like a star struck soldier before a beloved general, Elena clasped Imelda’s hand.

“I have looked up to you since I could walk,” she said, and Imelda smiled, almost, _almost_ bashfull (you’d have to know her well enough to notice it.) “And I kept your beautiful photo on our ofrenda after you passed, and I _knew_ you were watching over us. Oh, I have tried to lead after your example, and Mamá’s example. Our family has remained _strong_ and _together_ , and they make the most beautiful shoes, Imelda. I wish you could see them.”

“I have,” Imelda said, holding Elena’s hands, and Elena’s eyes shone with tears. “Every Dia de Muertos, Elena. I have seen our beautiful familia, and their wonderful art. You did well, Elena. _Never_ doubt that.”

Elena nodded, unable to speak. Behind her, Coco took her gently by the shoulders and lead her to look around.

With a deep breath, Héctor reached up to remove his hat, and held it respectfully in front of him as his granddaughter turned confused eyes on him.

“Mija,” Coco said, smiling, and sweeping a hand in her father’s direction. “I want to introduce you to my Papá, Papá Héctor.”

Elena’s eyes widened, then narrowed.

In the past years, during Dia de Muertos, Héctor had watched his granddaughter lead their living family with pride. The small woman had raised her own children well, and had been one of Miguel’s greatest supporters after finally accepting music into their family once more. Though her son, Enrique, had been head of the family business, she had clear authority there as well, and a final say in many of the arguments that had sometimes broken out between the family members. It had also been very clear that Imelda’s fierceness had survived well in the Rivera bloodline. It had been a great shame that Héctor had never met her in life--he would have _loved_ being a doting grandfather--but she had done well without him there. 

But that was in the past. She was here now, and now Héctor could properly meet his Coco's second beloved daughter.

Grinning sheepishly, he began, “Hola, Ele--”

“ _You._ ”

Héctor’s words were cut off by the most venomous “ _you_ ” he had ever heard, and he’d heard quite a few (there may have been a few people who were never terribly overjoyed to see him, you see.) With a start, he noticed his granddaughter had taken a threatening step forward, and he automatically stepped back.

Behind Elena, the rest of the family watched, nervous, but not surprised. Coco seemed ready to step in, close behind her daughter, but Elena ignored everyone except for the worried skeleton standing just in front of her.

“Ah,” Héctor looked to Imelda for help, “Hello--”

But before he could finish his greeting, and before anyone could offer any help, his granddaughter reached down, pulled off a hand crafted chancla, and swung.

THWACK!

The world _spun._ With a yelp, Héctor reached up to grab at his skull, which had just been smacked with enough force to send it spinning almost off his shoulders. He steadied his head and waited for his eyes to stop rolling around in their sockets, and felt a mixture of both pride and fear--pride, because the hardest smack he’d ever experienced via footwear was delivered by a Rivera, and fear because a Rivera had just smacked him with a shoe, and that was never a good thing.

“You! _You_ left your family!” Elena snapped, just as Héctor’s eyes came to a stop. “Your young wife and daughter, _abandoned, alone,_ so you could--could--run off and play music for _strangers! Egoista!_ ”

Héctor flinched. Elena’s words were heavy blows, the force behind them dealing more pain than any chancla to the face. And they were familiar. A mantra he’d repeated to himself every night, years ago, alone in the dark slums, very much aware of the damage he’d done to his family, to his wife and daughter. Very much aware he’d brought his lonely fate upon himself.

(This was also before realizing Ernesto had murdered him, of course.)

“You left for _fame,_ ” Elena continued, and Héctor was vaguely aware of Coco reaching out to stop her daughter’s tirade. Elena stepped out of reach, closer to Héctor, and Héctor didn’t mind, didn’t even try to stop her--he deserved it. “You left them alone, to fend for _themselves_ , and you never came _back!_ ”

Grimacing and looking down, more than ready to accept all the sharp, angry words Elena could bring up, Héctor was shocked to feel a tug at his neck. He realized someone had grabbed his handkerchief and was pulling, but before he could do anything about it, he was yanked down and enveloped in a warm, bone crushing, smothering hug that would have swept him off his feet had he been any shorter. 

Bent uncomfortably at the waist, torso trapped by a hug like no hug he’d ever experienced, Héctor was very much shocked to realize that the one hugging him was Elena herself. His granddaughter sighed heavily, arms holding tight, and Héctor glanced up at Imelda and Coco in confusion and a little bit of fear.

His wife and daughter only shrugged, apparently too amused to be of any help.

“Ay, pero, pobrecito,” Elena sighed, voice somehow frustrated and fond at the same time. “You tried to come back to them. Though you should _never have left them in the first place,_ you _tried_ to return.” 

Héctor blinked. “H-how do you--?”

“Mijito chiquito Miguelito told me everything,” Elena said. Her hug grew tighter, and Héctor would have been out of breath had he had any lungs. “I didn’t believe him at first, pero that reportero molesta found proof that you’d been killed by that, that _cabrón_ de la Cruz.”

Finally releasing Héctor, Elena shook her chancla threateningly at the ceiling and hissed, “If I ever see that man--”

Adjusting his handkerchief around his neck, and his hat atop his head, Héctor spared a grin for his murderer. If the man had any sense (which he didn’t) he would stay far away from the Rivera family (which he had, so far) or he’d have a terrifying granddaughter to deal with.

Just as he set his hat in the best, most flattering position, he was again yoinked down into a hug. Behind them, Coco was laughing, Imelda was silently watching with that expression that said she was howling with laughter inside, and the rest of Riveras watched on in awe.

“You poor man,” Elena said, pressing Héctor’s face into her shoulder. “So many years alone, unable to cross over on Dia de Muertos! And poisoned! By that _cabrón_ who kept you from being with your familia, ay, and so _young,_ only 21! Just a _boy_ \--”

Héctor never did get a chance to get a word in, and by the time Elena was done, the whole family had migrated over to the exit, Héctor dragged over in a hug by a woman who was doting over him as if _she_ was the grandparent.

“Elena,” he grunted, still held in a hug that just would not seem to end, “Shouldn’t _I_ be the one comforting _you?_ That’s how these reunions usually go, you see, grandfather and granddaughter--”

“Sh sh shhh,” Elena interrupted.

“But--”

“Ah ah, no, let me finish!” She snapped, and continued, anguished over his abruptly ended youth. 

FInally, as the rest of the family said their goodbyes to the amused officer, Elena patted his hair, and finally let him go. 

Héctor straightened. He almost missed the warmth of the hug, and the love that had radiated from his granddaughter, but now he could finally giver her a proper greeting like the Rivera patriarch that he was. Clearing his throat, he opened his mouth to begin.

“You were so skinny in your photo,” Elena said, eyeing the skeleton over critically, and _tsked._ “You and Enrique and Miguel! Mi hijos have always had trouble keeping on weight, and it’s because of _you._ Mamá, Papá,” she said, turning to Coco and Julio, and leaving Héctor to stare in shocked, uncertain silence, “Show me where I can make some menudo, por favor. I want to treat you _all_ today, especially this one,” she added, and jabbed Héctor in the side with her finger.

“Sí, and I will help,” Victoria said, walking beside her sister. “You never could get the spices right, Elena.”

Victoria was staring at her challengingly, and Elena matched the challenge with a playful glare of her own. “Oh, si? We shall see about that, Victoria. Héctor, mijo,” she said, and Héctor balked at being called _mijo_ by his _granddaughter,_ “Come here, let me see your shirt--ay, muy hermoso! Who sewed this?”

“I did!” Rosita chirped, and began a discussion on the good material to be found at the market, as the family began to descend the stairs to the bright colors of the Land of the Dead. Elena had one comforting hand on Héctor’s back, leading him along. Imelda walked beside him, one palm covering her smirk, and Héctor couldn’t help but smile in return.

His visits to the Department of Family Reunions had stopped being annoying and disappointing long ago. Now, though his second happy visit there hadn’t ended _quite_ the way he’d intended, it was still a good day. He had his family with him, and the second granddaughter he’d never met in the Land of the Living. He could stand all the doting, and the smothering, and the anger, and all the menudo arguments to be had, as long as he was no longer alone.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know how to end things! Oh well.


End file.
